And the Manacles Dissolve
by JimmyDANj2
Summary: For them, the weight of an entire nation - their peoples' collective best interests - bore down upon their shoulders. Marriage was trivial in the face of their conviction, their shared commitment to union. For onlookers, that's all there was. A cold marriage of convenience, a marriage detailing triumph. But they themselves question why it was expected. Why warmth wasn't an option.
1. And the Manacles Dissolve

"And through this union," Ashe announced, beaming at the clamoring masses surrounding her. "We will rely upon the strength of the barbarians, and they in turn upon our promise of a home to return to, a stalwart pillar to lean against. We are their stability, just as they lend us fortitude! Today, Freljord becomes something much bigger than it once was!"

The rowdy bellows of both barbarians and Avarosans alike echoed throughout the frosty expanse as Ashe gazed fondly upon her subjects.

"I am your singular monarch no longer. As of now, our leaderships intertwine just as our people do! I present to you your new king!"

With a calloused hand clasped tightly in her own, she raised both their arms in a gesture of triumph as she beamed at the assembly of roaring citizens. At her side, Tryndamere bellowed just as raucously as the loudest among them.

"Great, isn't it?" she whispered to him.

"Ha!" he guffawed, still seized by the adrenaline of the situation.

"This is nothing. Just wait 'til you break out the booze."

* * *

><p>"So," Ashe glanced around at their new shared home. "We've done it. Freljord has finally been granted sovereignty. Thank you, Tryndamere. You have no idea how grateful I am for all you've done for me and my people."<p>

"Ah, think nothing of it," he laughed. "All we've done is come rudely marching, strutting our muscles and adding a bunch o' sweaty, smelly men to your ranks. If anything, we owe _you_ a debt for providing us a sanctuary. At long last, we have a place to call home."

Ashe smiled, though the king noticed it did not reach her eyes.

"I'm glad we could help each other. Always remember, your people are my people now. I won't allow anyone to treat them any differently."

Tryndamere nodded slowly, unable to ignore how sharply Ashe's weariness lined her expression.

"Ashe..." he sighed quietly. "I'm sorry."

She blinked in surprise.

"What? Whatever for?"

"I…Forgive me if this isn't my place to say, but…you're not happy with this, are you?"

"H-Huh?! Why would you ever think that? Freljord's the closest to being united than it's been in _ages_, and-"

"No," Tryndamere cut her off. "I'm sorry, what I meant to say is that you may be content with the result, and you _are_ truly happy with the security this arrangement's afforded our citizens, but you aren't happy for yourself, right?"

"Wh-" Ashe averted her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"'S no use lying to me," he chuckled. "I'm pretty much an expert in all things angry, and yeah, it's not like you're mad, but I know resentment when I see it. I've seen how it's been for you. How hard you work, how pristine you have to keep yourself, how your refuse to let there be a chink in that frozen, queenly armor of yours. You've had to take so much on your shoulders, suffer through a whole helluva lot, and you of all people deserve at least some kind of happiness in return, but what do you have to show for it?"

He gave a weak grin, pointing to himself.

"An uncouth barbarian for a husband. Some refined prince I turned out to be, eh?"

"_No_!" Ashe growled, startling him. "That's not it; don't ever think like that. Like – like I married _beneath_ me. What nonsense. Tryndamere, you're one of the strongest people I know, and every bit as worthy of the crown as I am. And I'm not some _girl_ with her ditzy head stuck in the clouds. I've never needed a _prince_. It's just…"

"Just…?" Tryndamere coaxed, nodding for her to continue.

"It's just that it would have been nice. Nice if I could for once…perhaps choose for myself. I've always been bound by duty and obligation, to do what's expected of me, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm proud to have been able to accomplish this much. But at least for this sort of thing…I wanted be able to choose someone I loved. N-Nothing against you, though. I don't mean to imply-"

"No, I understand. It's true that our marriage was purely political. I only…"

He paused as he glanced at her.

"I only wish we could have went about this another way. I didn't want to do this at your expense, Ashe. I...want you to be happy."

Ashe's eyes widened, before she clenched her teeth. Seeming to steel herself, she curled her hands into fists, paying no heed to the nails biting at her palm.

"Well…well, it doesn't _have_ to be. Purely political, that is."

Tryndamere folded his arms in confusion.

"What are you trying to say?"

Ashe took a deep breath, coaxing herself to continue.

"What I mean to say is that…it's stupid. This whole business. It's stupid that everyone is scrutinizing us behind our backs as if they _know_ this is a farce. I'm not oblivious to the skeptics muttering amongst themselves, doubting if this union will work because they doubt our devotion to the cause. They _expect_ this to be fake, they _expect_ our marriage to be faulty, to be a sham, and when it all breaks down because of our supposed flimsy commitment to each other, then they sigh and smirk to themselves, telling anyone who would listen that they knew all along that we were playing pretend. I say…I say we show them, Tryndamere. Why does this have to be forced? Why do we have to shoulder all of what everyone is _prepared _for? Whatever's between us doesn't have to be a falsehood.

She bit her lip as Tryndamere gazed at her and said nothing.

"It's true," she muttered, lowering her head, bangs obscuring her eyes. "We don't love each other now, but…don't you think we could eventually? We could…you know. Try. I'm willing to try if you are, Tryndamere. I don't know about you, but I'd be driven out of my mind by this…this…_artificial _marriage in a heartbeat. Things would be so much easier if things were warmer between us, wouldn't you agree?

She gave him a tremulous smile.

"All talk of love aside, the whole reason I chose you to be my king in the first place is not only because you're a great leader, but because you're a good man as well. This much I know with certainty."

She fell silent, fidgeting as she awaited his response.

"Are…" Tryndamere licked his lips, his expression impassive, schooled. "Are you sure you would honestly be satisfied with…with someone like me? In case you haven't noticed, I'm nothing more than a brute with a penchant for killing. All I've got is my bloodlust, all I know is slaughter. Y-You deserve better. You are our Queen."

She rolled her eyes.

"And _you_ are our King. You give yourself far too little credit. The very fact that you can rein in your anger and channel it towards the prosperity of your people shows exactly what caliber of man you are. And besides," she blushed, twirling a lock of silver hair along her finger.

"I wasn't asking you if this is what I _deserved_. I'm asking you if this is what you…want."

She waited.

Tryndamere's stoic visage did not falter, but his eyes concealed unbridled emotion as they examined her.

And quite suddenly, a huge grin adorned his face. It was a hearty, genuine sort of thing, one that stretched from cheek to cheek, and Ashe found herself speechless as she bore witness.

"You really are a remarkable woman."

His booming laughter echoed across the expanse of the room's broad ceiling.

"Very well. If you are honest-to-god okay with _me_, then I won't say that I didn't warn you when you grow sick of me in the future. I would be honored to _truly_ be your King, Ashe."

Ashe let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding as her body slumped in blatant relief.

"I'm glad," she murmured.

Abruptly, she sprung up from her perch on the mattress and clapped her hands together.

"Well! Now that _that_ business is behind us, what do you say we head down to the cafeteria? I. Am. Starving."

Tryndamere chortled as she looped her arm through his.

"_Now_ you're speakin' my language!"

* * *

><p>"Calm down, Tryndamere."<p>

"_Calm down_? That bastard treats my men like they're dirt, and you want me to calm down?"

"I don't see what the big deal is. They were all at a tavern, they were drunk-"

"You weren't there, Ashe!" he growled. "You didn't hear the things he said! As if we were lower than bugs, as if we were second class citizens! I thought this was supposed to be an _equal_ union!"

"It _is_!" she replied, exasperated. "But I don't see why a bit of rowdy language warrants your men beating my officer black and blue! Look, Tryndamere, you have to rein in your men in the future, we can't have them going around physically assaulting-"

"Oh, so 'a bit of rowdy language' is all well and good for your _Avarosans_ but roughhousing isn't when it comes to my men? So much for equality!" he sneered.

"We are _all_ Avarosan!" Ashe shouted, losing her patience.

"Sure as hell doesn't seem like it!" Tryndamere roared back. "When I brought my people here and swore fealty to you, I didn't do it just for your _civilians_ to spit on our pride behind our backs! We're called barbarians, Ashe, but we're not animals! We're not _beasts_ to be prodded at for your viewing pleasure, and then disposed of when you no longer have need of us!"

Ashe gritted her teeth as Tryndamere's anger in turn waxed her own ire greater and greater until something black and foul, something she could not recognize nor fathom, welled up from within her.

"Well you could've fooled me!" she snarled. "What else should we expect from you _uncultured-_"

Suddenly, she froze, realizing exactly what had come from her own mouth.

Tryndamere had stiffened, his expression betraying only mild surprise for a moment.

His countenance turned to stone. His voice came out gravelly and solemn.

"I see. So that's how this was after all."

He brusquely brushed past her and headed towards the entryway, crossing the threshold just as Ashe came to her senses.

"Wait! Trydamere! No, no no no, oh god, I didn't mean- _Please_, Tryndamere, come back! Please, please, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-"

Met with swirling frost as he lumbered out into the night, he felt a desperate grip – frigid, cold, but frantic with emotion– encase his wrist.

"I didn't mean it," she whispered. "There's been so much stress lately, and I-I just…"

Tryndamere sighed, swiveling to meet her gaze, noting the tears freely dripping down her cheeks, cutting swaths through the gathering frost accumulated from the night's tundra.

"That's no excuse," she trembled. "But I swear, I _swear_, I didn't mean one terrible word of what I said, you _know_ you and your people mean the world to me, we owe _everything_ to you-"

She choked back a sob, bringing up her other hand to cling to his fur pelt.

"I'm sorry, too," he muttered quietly, his rage simmering at her cool touch. "I shouldn't have lost my temper. You're right; for better or worse, we've joined in a community now, and we can't carry our violent habits with us into this deal unfiltered without expecting trouble. I guess me and my boys'll just have to learn to compromise-"

"No," Ashe vigorously shook her head, her tears glinting like frozen crystal as they were flung aside. "You're right to be indignant. I'm – we're – the ones at fault. After all you've done for us, we have no right to act in such a…such an ungrateful manner. The last thing you and your men deserve is to be treated like you don't belong, when it should be – and _is – _anything but. I promise that I'll have a talk with my officer. His kind of behavior cannot be tolerated and must be stamped out if this union is to work."

Tryndamere offered a weary smile.

"I suppose we both have a lot to learn about runnin' this new society. We have to take responsibility for what we've created with our own hands."

He gestured towards their home as he gently grabbed her hand and began walking.

They treaded slowly, carefully, their footfalls muffled by the snow.

"Tryndamere?" Ashe timidly uttered.

"Yeah?"

"You _are_ very important to me. You know that, don't you?"

"I know. Same here."

They were nowhere near cleansed of the tension that so abruptly hung between them, but as the door closed behind them, they each silently resolved that whatever the strife, whatever future tidings their arrangement wrought, they would approach it together.

* * *

><p>"You're being ridiculous," she laughed, looking up from her book.<p>

"'Bout what?" he grunted.

"This is your _home_, for heaven's sake. You don't have to keep sleeping on the couch."

Ashe had to stifle a giggle at the blush that spread across Tryndamere's face.

"Wouldn't be proper," he mumbled, looking anywhere but at her.

"Oh please," she fondly rolled her eyes. "We've been married for over a month now. What's so scandalous about sharing a bed?"

"But-"

"Come on," she insisted, patting the space beside her. "It's not like we're going to _do_ anything. I just feel bad that you've never had a comfortable place to sleep all this time."

"I'm used to it. I was always on the move before I came here. Never needed much more than the ground under my feet."

"'Yes, but you're not out there anymore, clawing and fighting your way to survival each and every night. You're here now. I've promised since the beginning of all this that you and your subjects will always have a place to return to. My home is your home, and I mean that," she looked around, grinning at the walls of their abode. "Quite literally."

She couldn't help but laugh at how apprehensive he was of the situation.

"C'mon, indulge yourself! What's the point of being a king if you can't at least have a _bed_? Do it for me?" she playfully batted her eyelashes.

"Are you sure?" came his muted response.

"Get _in_ here, you big baby!"

He sighed in acquiescence (internally, he growled and swore that she was the _only_ one who would _ever_ away with calling him that), before climbing up next to her, drawing the comforter over so that it enveloped both of them.

"See? Not so bad, right?" she smiled, before returning merrily to her book.

"I swear on my blade, you're going to be the death of my pride. If any shreds of it are left."

"Is that Barbarian tongue for 'thank you'?" she replied, without looking up or missing a beat.

Chuckling, Tryndamere allowed himself relax his muscles and sink limply into the mattress.

"Something like that," he agreed.

* * *

><p>The harsh staccato of hooves pounding the earth reverberated throughout the mountainous expanse.<p>

"Quickly!" she urged from her perch on the worn saddle. "There isn't any time to lose! If Tryndamere were to have encountered the Noxians-"

The icy clamp of fear seized her heart, causing her to falter.

The battalion of soldiers riding behind her noticed their queen's anxiety.

"Fear not, your majesty," the captain reassured her. "Our king is not a man to be trifled with. They would have a hard time toppling a man of _his_ caliber, even if he were to run into them."

Ashe swiped some lingering frost from her lips, her determined posture betraying none of her growing trepidation.

"Please be alright."

Her whisper was swallowed by the howling winds as she thought back to the morning three days prior.

"_Is it okay?"_

"_Um, o-of course it is, but…can I ask what the occasion is?"_

"_Things have been a little too quiet lately. I guess that'd usually be good, but we've got to stay realistic 'bout things. I can't imagine Sejuani would remain complacent for so long, so my bet is she's brewing up a storm. Taking some of my men and scouting out some of the mountain ranges would put my mind at ease."_

"_Well, I suppose there isn't any problem. How long will you be gone?"_

"_Week at most. Don't worry, we won't be venturing too far. Just leave all the grunt work to us, 's what we're here for, after all."_

_He smiled._

"_Are you sure you don't need me to come with you? At the very least, I could send a few of my contingent to help."_

"_We'll be fine," he waved her off. "One of us has gotta stay here and run the place. Things are tenuous enough around here as it is. And between you and me, this is as much for me and my boys as it is security detail."_

"_What do you mean?" Ashe placed her pen down and turned to give him her full attention._

"_Ah, well, it's just…" Tryndamere nervously scratched the back of his head. "Now, don't take this the wrong way, but some of us have been a little restless staying here in the city. As content as we are to have a home that stays in one place, we weren't meant to sit still or be complacent. We've been nomads for so long, it's hard to get used to tranquility. It's easy to feel suffocated and uselessly stagnant if we can't have the wind whipping across our faces once in a while or feel our blood pumping with the adrenaline of travel."_

"_So scouting for Sejuani's forces is an excuse?" she questioned with a wry grin._

"_Not so much an _excuse_," he mumbled. "Call it the perfect opportunity."_

"_Well, don't let me stop you," she warmly replied. "I have no intention of shackling you or your people to our way of life. Just…make sure you come back, alright?"_

"_I promise that that's something you'll never have to worry about."_

"_Good. Have a safe trip."_

"_Send word to me the __**instant **__you need me, okay? No matter how trivial it seems, I'll be back before you can-"_

"_Alright, alright," she laughed. "I promise. Now get going, already."_

And it was only this morning, three days later, that Ashe received word from the Institute of War of the stubborn remnants of Noxus' supposedly dissolved Barbarian Pacification Campaign being spotted among the outskirts of the mountains near the city.

"Faster!" she roared over the din of the bellowing gales.

And then she heard it. Her ears picked up the shift in winds, and as they drew nearer and nearer, she distinguished the unmistakable clamor of warfare sifting through the trees ahead of them.

And as her squadron broke into the clearing, she saw her barbarian brethren, Tryndamere at the fore, clashing with the Noxians in the distance.

With growing dread, she discerned that the warriors were severely, hopelessly outnumbered.

"Archers, ready!" she screamed, increasing her speed. "Unleash a volley and thin out the Noxians! We must clear a path of escape for our comrades!"

She herself whipped out Avarosa's keepsake, willed a frozen arrow into existence, and began firing.

Enemy troops dropped like flies as Ashe's intervention turned the tides of the conflict. Finally reaching the edge of the fray, she leapt off of her horse and coldly impaled a Noxian point-blank with an arrow.

Her blood froze over, the chill of calculated fury coursing through her veins. Her blue gaze narrowed, her glare jagged, as ice lined her ruthless expression. Volley after volley erupted mercilessly from her fingertips, and the white of the snow speckled with crimson.

As her men rallied behind her, they paved a way along the outskirts of the battle for Tryndamere's injured group to retreat towards.

However, Ashe witnessed Tryndamere himself fighting in the center of the swarm of Noxians, presumably to ensure the safety of the rest of his men. She saw that the few barbarians who chose to dive into the thick of battle alongside him already lay slain at his feet.

She urged her body into a sprint, calling for her soldiers to aid her. The feeling of dread waxed greater. Her heart lurched in her chest. He was much too far away, she was running as fast as she could, the Noxians surrounding him were far too numerous-

Tryndamere fought blood and nail and tooth and bone, with the fervor and valiance of twenty men. His blade was a blur of steel as he cut through swaths of men like butter. Again and again it sank into flesh, and again and again Noxians slumped lifelessly to the sleet below.

But the dread cascaded over Ashe like frozen fire, encasing her heart, robbing her of warmth, of sensitivity.

A pause, momentary but all too poignant, rippled forth and undulated across the entire field. It was as if, for a brief instant, the air itself was siphoned of its Time, perceptions halted en masse.

And it passed.

And her breath hitched, her knuckles grew numb, as a scimitar punctured Tryndamere's torso from behind. His attacker shoved the weapon to its hilt; Ashe, in a moment of delirium, imagined the glint of the curved blade, marred with her husband's blood, winking at her, mocking her.

As red seeped through the corner of his mouth, Tryndamere blinked and stared dumbly at the metal protruding from his chest.

In the same moment he fell, Ashe charged, blinded by both tears and wrath, her cry of despair lost amidst the din of slaughter.

In a matter of minutes – or perhaps weeks, or perhaps years, Ashe couldn't tell – they dispatched the Noxians. Their corpses littered the red-tinged ice.

"Tryndamere, Tryndamere," she sobbed, his head cradled in her lap. "Say something. Anything. You have to-"

She gulped through her tears.

Under her fingertips, she felt the warmth rapidly seeping out from his body. She tightly, desperately gripped his shoulders.

"I forbid it. You can't abandon your duty to our statehood, to me."

When he did not answer, her anger swelled alongside her anguish.

"_Do you hear me?_" she shouted. "If you die here, all of what we worked for, our commitments, our promises – _**they go up in dust!**_ Are you going to leave things as they are?"

She clenched her teeth.

"I refuse to allow it! I will _never _allow it! I didn't take you for a king who would leave things halfway finished! Our nation needs you, our people need you!"

She closed her eyes.

"_I_ need you."

And quite suddenly, the warmth surged back, coating his body once more, brimming the synapses that once rang cold and hollow. His wound glowed red and began stitching itself back together, seams of flesh twining until no gap remained. Tryndamere's chest exuded heat; for a moment, Ashe reeled back as invisible flames scorched the air around him and washed over her frame.

He rose slowly to his feet, seemingly oblivious to Ashe's dumbfounded expression or the tears that had dripped onto his visage.

"Wh…Wha…"

She was rendered speechless, remaining stock still as Tryndamere swiveled to face her.

"What," he flashed a rueful smile. "Did you forget who I was?"

She punched him.

"OUCH! What the hell was that for, woman?!"

He faltered, however, when he witnessed her furious gaze, fists curled at her sides.

"You, you, _you_, YOU," Ashe trembled.

But she then launched herself at him, winding her slender arms tightly around his neck.

Tryndamere nearly tripped, attempting to support her as she embraced him with all her might.

"Don't you _ever_. Do that to me again."

Her threat was muffled against his chest.

"Takes a lot more 'n that to get rid of me. Especially when I promised someone I'd come back."

"Trust me," her growl seemed nearly feral, even as she held him to her as tightly as humanly possible. "You are not going anywhere. Not as long as _I_ still draw breath."

* * *

><p>Tryndamere grumbled.<p>

Ashe raised a brow as she sipped her tea.

"Is something the matter?"

"No," he ground out.

She paused, placing her cup down.

"Something's obviously bothering you."

"_Nothing_ is bothering me."

She blinked at his harsh tone.

"Is this about last night's banquet?"

"And what would give you that idea?"

Ashe frowned, rotating her chair so that she could face him fully.

"Tryndamere, tell me."

"What's there to tell? Look, I was just out of my element, okay? I'm not one for highbrow social gatherings, in case you haven't picked up on that. Being forced into a suit and having to behave like a pompous fool isn't exactly my idea of a fun night."

Ashe peered into his disgruntled eyes.

"I know that's not really what's eating at you, Tryndamere. I'm not married to you for nothing."

"Really, now?" he stabbed his fork into his yolk, tearing the egg in two. "Sure didn't seem like it when you were getting all chummy with those Piltoverian dullards."

"You know as well as I do that it was important for us to improve relations with Piltover's emissaries. That was the whole point of inviting them to the feast in the first place."

"Yeah, you sure _improved relations_ with them, alright. Was that what you were doing with that moron who kept flirting with you under your nose? Or maybe you did notice. You sure egged him on plenty. What, you realize you'd rather have married some stupid noble after all?"

She gaped at him, as if making sure they were having the same conversation.

"You were _jealous_!" she giggled, walking over to sit next to him.

"I'm not."

He turned so he wouldn't meet her gaze.

She sighed, placing a placating hand on his arm.

"Is that what this was about? Tryndamere, don't be absurd."

"I'm absurd now, am I?"

"Yes, you are. I told you before and I'll say it now. I'm not some insipid little girl fantasizing about some guy on a stallion. You don't have anything to worry about."

When he still appeared unconvinced, Ashe sighed once more.

"Do you really think I'd be taken with some shameless flirt? You're my husband, Tryndamere, and I intend to keep it that way. There's no one else I'd rather have."

He glanced at her hesitantly from the corner of his eye.

"You mean it?"

She nodded, taking his hand.

"Why would I need a prince when I have _you_ as my _King_?"

He exhaled, ashamed.

"I'm sorry. I know I'm being ridiculous. I only-"

"Don't apologize," she grinned. "I think it's adorable when you're like this. So at odds with the _strong_, _manly_ image you keep up around everyone else."

"I am NOT adorable."

"Oh?" she teased. "Is my big bad barbarian blushing?"

He shook his head, exasperated.

"Like I said. Around you, all notion of pride is thrown out the window."

"Is it worth it?" she asked absentmindedly, playing with a strand of Tryndamere's hair.

"Every shred."

* * *

><p>"Hey, Tryndamere?"<p>

"Yeah?"

"I love you, you know."

"Oh."

"…"

"…"

"…Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Ugh. You are so _infuriating_."

"Have you checked recently who you're married to? Infuriating is sort of what I _do_."

"Do you love me or _not_?"

"Y' really have to ask?"

And, amused, Ashe found that she really didn't.

After all, it was more a formality than anything else.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<br>**

PHEW. Finished at last.

Well. As you can tell, I've been bitten by the Tryndamere/Ashe bug. There are certain dynamics with their relationship that everyone seems to take for granted and are predisposed towards understanding. Namely, that the basis of their marriage is political, and as a result, they are aloof towards each other from the onset; that the only reason they are together - at least at first - at all is for the commitment to the union of their people.

Using that as a starting point, there are a number of wonderful fics on this site that work to illustrate their struggle to eventually become fond of each other, and, only through excruciating circumstances do they finally overcome their stiff regard for each other and begin to genuinely like one another. As I had Ashe state, it's what's _expected_ of them by this point.

And it all makes perfect _sense_, of course. I am the last person who would oppose such a progression, and indeed, have already read several fics detailing exactly that sort situation between the two, and I thoroughly enjoyed them. That said, I attempted a different approach in writing this fic, as you can tell. I wanted to have them throw off the shackles of these expectations, and be warm and friendly to each other from the very get-go. Why _can't_ they attempt to truly be husband and wife? And from that question, this fic was born. Of course, they are clearly not without their fair share of strife in this story, but I'd like to think my overall portrayal held its ground.

Er, I hope I didn't come across as pompous or condescending in this author's note, I just wanted to explain my thought process behind the fic. AND OKAY, THIS RANT HAS GONE ON LONG ENOUGH. I'M DONE, I SWEAR.

Drop a review and let me know what you thought!

EDIT: Should probably have done this earlier, but just letting people know I've decided to continue this fic. Click onwards to chapter 2!


	2. All a Person Needs

**Author's Note:** Um. So I decided on a whim to continue this. That's a good thing, right? I sure hope so. Enjoy, my guppies.

* * *

><p>"An ally has been slain."<p>

The female announcer's smooth, silk-imbued voice washed over him like liquid, curling around him, daring him, directing him towards the scene.

Tryndamere sucked in a quivering breath. His skin grew clammy even as beads of sweat crawled down his form.

To see her struck down, to see Katarina's dagger wedged between her shoulder blades and mercilessly driven in.

His vision swam, not with the external pain he was enduring, but with the _knowledge_, the capacity of suffering for _her _sake within him that had suddenly grown from his time spent with her.

He took in her dull, listless eyes, her prone, unmoving body, her limp form as it seemed to clatter against the ground like a puppet. Not a single detail wasn't etched – _engraved_ – into his mind for the rest of eternity.

He was no stranger to death. About the furthest thing from it, in fact.

Once upon a time, he underwent slaughter and decay and cruelty and bone-for-bone survival and the unforgiving voracity of war on a daily basis. And he weathered it. And he bore it.

But this, he could not stomach. This, he could not cope with.

"Tryndamere!" called Jayce. "What in the hell do you think you're doing?! Behind you!"

To his surprise and befuddlement, he was on his knees, his sword gouged into the earth in front of him. Perhaps shocked into submission by her death.

And his skin suddenly tasted the tang of metal on flesh, and Talon's blade sank – almost sweetly, succulently – into his back.

He fell, and all went dark, and his last thought before he dissipated into wisps and fragments was that no matter how prepared he was for death, no matter how undauntedly he beckoned it, nothing could ever brace him enough for hers.

* * *

><p>"Here to chew me out?" he grunted. "Everyone else already has."<p>

Ashe shook her head.

"No, of course not. I'm just worried. Tryndamere, what happened out there?"

"You saw for yourself. I zoned out and lost us the match. Typical barbarian brain. Can't even keep lucid enough to finish a fight."

"Oh, don't give me that self-deprecating crap," she glared at him. "Because you know by now that I'll have _none_ of it. Something else was going on here, and trying to pull the wool over my eyes won't work. I only want to help."

"I don't _need_ your help," he snapped. "I can make do just fine on my own."

"That's funny," she angrily retorted. "I seem to recall us making an oath that we were in this _together_. For the long haul, and for everything. Not just when and where it's convenient. I made my commitment, so what about you, _dear husband_?"

Tryndamere turned away, unable to meet her gaze.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" came his anguished groan.

"Why can't you just tell me what's wrong?" Ashe seethed. "Do you have such little faith in me? Am I nothing more than a _trophy queen_ to help grant you _foothold _in world affairs? What am I _for_, Tryndamere?"

"It's _you_, alright?!" he roared, swiveling to face her, his voice brimming with fury, belying his grief-stricken countenance.

Ashe blinked, surprise effectively clearing her ire.

"M-Me?"

"Yes, _you_. I don't have to tell you what it's like-"

He twirled a lazy gesture into the air with his hand

"Out there. Barren wastelands, nothing but ice to keep us company, living off of what meager rations we can scrounge up. Day after day, brought to within an inch of our lives _just_ so we can survive 'til dawn. Brutal conflict defined us; we lived through hell. And we're all the stronger for it. _I'm _all the stronger for it. I've grown so accustomed to carnage that I don't bat an eye at the reaper's presence. I'm always at death's door – hell, I'm its fucking playmate – because I can _handle_ it, because I've gained _control_ over the brushes with bloodshed."

His voice was tight with emotion, his teeth gnashing together in frustration.

"So I _shouldn't_ be so affected. I _can't_ be, it's unacceptable, death has never been able to sway me like this-"

"Tryndamere," Ashe cautiously ventured. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about…about you. When you die on the rift. I...at the sight of your blank expression when your…your lifeless body just topples to the ground, I just…everything in me seized up. I couldn't think or even realize where I was."

"Tryndamere…" she murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I know, I know! It's stupid of me. None of it is real. The deaths are simulated and the matches are arranged. No one else affects me like this. Just…just you. It's just your death I can't handle. It doesn't matter when I see you respawn seconds later, it only…it only makes it worse when I see you killed again. And again after that."

"But," Ashe bit her lip. "But you've been with me in matches before this. Surely this isn't the first time you've seen me slain."

He shook his head.

"B-Back then, you weren't – I mean, you…we hadn't yet…"

He took a deep, shuddering breath, averting his gaze.

"You didn't mean as much to me as you do now."

Ashe's eyes widened.

"T-The very _idea_ of you getting hurt like that, Ashe…" he mumbled. "I don't know what I would do if-"

But she cut him off with a fierce hug.

"I hadn't realized," she whispered. "I hadn't realized, Tryndamere. I'm sorry. I've always had this fear that…that perhaps I was the only one still wholeheartedly in this arrangement. That perhaps you were no longer interested in what we had, and only saw me as the queen."

"That's a stupid fear to have," he muttered.

She smiled.

"I see that now."

Ashe leaned her head on his shoulder. Her silver tresses spilled over down the length of his arm.

"You don't have any cause for concern. I'm not going anywhere. And neither are you. When I said that we were in this for the long haul, I meant it."

"But our battles won't always take place on the Fields of Justice. Out in Freljord, we're still engaging in actual combat, fighting a _real _war."

"Yes, and we'll do so together. I have nothing to fear with my oh-so-devoted barbarian at my side," She grinned at him. "It's not like you'll let anything happen to me, right?"

He scoffed at the absurdity.

"As if you have to ask."

* * *

><p>A pale hand smoothed the wrinkles lingering on Tryndamere's collar.<p>

"Remember," Ashe warned, leveling a frosty glower at him. "You're to be on your best behavior. The potential of this compromise is very important."

"Right, right," he grumbled. "You don't have to keep reminding me every two seconds."

"I mean it," she said, tiptoeing so that she was nose to nose with him. "If you put one toe out of line, it could jeopardize whatever shaky foundation is keeping this half-baked alliance afloat. And these are Demacians. You carry yourself with _anything_ less than the utmost decorum, and they'll eat us alive. So please, _mind your manners_."

"I told you," his tone was gruff with irritation. "I can handle it. Let's just get this over with."

As they entered the conference room, a fair-haired man at the head of a considerably large table greeted them and gestured for them to sit.

They settled down beside each other, opposite from the man. Flanking the two were numerous Demacian officials. Tryndamere scrunched up his nose in distaste. Their hosts positively _reeked_ of nobility. It was stifling to him how loftily they looked upon their surroundings.

"Well," the man boomed, his voice seeming to cascade over the very tapestries unfurled across the walls. Tryndamere swore to himself that he saw one flutter the slightest bit.

"I welcome you, venerable Queen of Freljord, within our hallowed walls. Demacia extends only the most amicable of greetings. Rest assured that we hold you in the highest esteem."

"Likewise," Ashe replied. "We are honored by your acquiescence to our request."

"But of course," the diplomat inclined his head over his threaded fingers. "Who are we to turn away such a respectable nation when they are in need? Demacia holds justice above all else."

Tryndamere narrowed his eyes.

_Where was your justice when Noxus was dispatching of us barbarians like vermin?_

However, he held his tongue, as he knew he must.

"You are too generous. Then, you wouldn't mind if we cut to the chase, so to speak?"

Tryndamere could not help but admire how pristinely Ashe carried herself, how she was able to command respect from her posture alone. Here was a woman – his _wife_, if one could believe it – who was impervious, who could not be talked down or mentally dwindled. Unlike himself, she was able to meet these socially ironclad nobles at their own level, their own game, and twist her own triumph above theirs.

"Of course, of course," the man's smile widened. "Please, what brings your majesty here?"

Ashe calmly steepled her fingers.

"I want to discuss the matter of how far our alliance extends. As you are well aware, Lissandra's recent betrayal hit us hard. As the days drag on, our forces are spread more and more thin. It is a struggle maintaining military efficacy when we are being assaulted on multiple fronts by both Sejuani and our former ally. We were hoping,"

Ashe leveled an unflinching, cool gaze at the diplomat.

"That Demacia could perhaps lend us aid in this regard. Even supplying us with a meager portion of your troops would assuredly go a long way. And I can promise you that should we successfully stave them off, it is most certainly in your benefit to have Freljord, as you know it under _our_ monarchy, in your debt."

The man drummed his gloved fingers on the polished oak of the table.

The smile –_presumptuous, simpering, arrogant, insincere,_ Tryndamere noted, his aggravation bubbling – never left his face.

"Well, your majesty, you can have faith in the fact that we are very interested in building bridges. Our nation would dearly like to sustain and bolster relations with Freljord. More elaborate negotiations will have to be discussed, of course, but I think you'll be pleased with just how much we are willing to offer."

The relief on the queen's face was palpable.

"Freljord extends its deepest of gratitudes," she provided. "I'm sure we can come to an agreement that will avail us both."

"In fact, I am surprised," he chuckled. "That you have only approached us just now with your situation. It is a testament to your majesty's resourcefulness that you've managed to last this long with…well, with what help you've had so far."

Ashe's cordial smile froze with bewilderment.

"Pardon?"

"Well, if you'll forgive me for saying this," he crooned. "But your questionable taste in 'allies' up until now has admittedly worried us. Of course, we are very glad that you've come to your senses and have come to us at last for reinforcement."

"What are you implying?"

Her eyebrows were perched upon the precipice of dawning comprehension.

Tryndamere's fists clenched under the table.

_Keep a lid on it. Maintain control. This is important. She's counting on you._

"Oh, no offense at all meant against _you_, of course!" he assured, as if appalled she could think such a thing. "We are, if anything, impressed that you have been able to do so much with merely _barbarians_ at your beck and call. We certainly don't mean to lump you in with _them_; we have nothing but the utmost respect for the Avarosans."

Tryndamere saw red.

Yet even then, he preserved his composure. A stream of blood ran down his lip from where he bit it.

"Between you and me," the man went on, unaware of Tryndamere's mounting rage. "Of course we and Noxus meet eye to eye on nary a single thing, but even _I_ admit that there wasn't much harm in letting them carry on with their little 'Pacification Campaign'."

It was at this point that Tryndamere noticed, even through the haze of anger clouding his vision, that the diplomat hadn't as so much as glanced at him or acknowledged his existence in the room since they sat down.

The roaring red; the glowing outrage had brimmed the gap that spanned his injury, healing the cut on his lip.

A snarl threatened to escape, but Tryndamere, with every fiber of his will, pushed it back.

"I mean," the man wrapped a strand of blond hair around his ring finger. Tryndamere, through his curtain of red, saw his smile warp, saw the grotesqueness lining his visage. "I admire your persistence in attempting to tame those savages, but we are relieved that you finally recognize a lost cause when you see one. Even Noxus knew: rabble is as rabble does, after al-"

Hands slammed onto the table with such force, cracks slithered from the point of impact. A chair clattered noisily to the ground, startling the insolent diplomat.

But it wasn't Tryndamere's.

"You expect me," Ashe's said quietly, cold fury etched harshly onto every contour of her face. "To sit idly by while you blatantly insult my husband and his people?"

Said husband looked on wide-eyed. He had never witnessed Ashe so furious. Such was his awe that his own indignation had completely slipped his mind, which was no small feat. Whereas his rage was an inferno, her fury was a blizzard, a tempest, a _maelstrom_.

And Tryndamere actually _pitied _the poor sap in front of them now. No longer did he don that atrocious excuse for a smile, no more was his steady posture. God forbid anyone _else_ have to be the full blown victim of the frost archer's concentrated wrath.

"Now see here," he spluttered, licking his dry lips. "Do you realize what you are doing? Jeopardizing this alliance is not in your best intere-"

"_Fuck_ the alliance," was Ashe's smooth retort. "I don't give two unadulterated _shits_ about this pathetic excuse for an alliance. Whilst your pompous arrogant selves sat, complacent, surrounded by your wealth and your beloved prestige, my husband bore the burden of taking up the crown and providing us salvation in our time of need."

She swept back the wisps of silver covering her frozen gaze.

"I have never been happy with Demacia. For turning its back on Freljord, for outright shunning our barbarian brethren. But I was willing to brush aside my preconceptions. I was willing endure whatever hoops you would have me jump through, whatever strife you would put me through simply for your own amusement, because we need the aid."

By now, the officials in the room were numb with fear, their mouths frozen shut out of trepidation.

"But I WILL NOT tolerate your slander towards those who sacrificed so much to help us maintain statehood. If you take nothing else away in that blackened husk you call a brain, then know this: the barbarians are not just our allies, they are our comrades-in-arms. They are not just our citizens, they are our _family_!"

Never breaking eye contact, Ashe withdrew her hand from the splintered table.

"My king is a thousand times the man you or anyone in this room can ever _hope_ to be. This meeting is over. Be happy I don't skewer you where you sit."

She abruptly grasped Tryndamere's hand and stormed out of the room, dragging him unceremoniously alongside her.

* * *

><p>It was not until they were securely on their horses, well on their way back to Freljord, that Tryndamere decided to speak up.<p>

"So who was it who reminded me just how important this was? How we had to be on our 'best behavior'?" he teased.

Ashe glared sideways at him.

"If you think," she said slowly. "that I was going to stand by and let them continue slinging mud at you for another _moment_ longer_-_"

He laughed.

"Relax. How can you expect me to be anything but happy after that little tirade of yours? Lord only knows how badly I wanted to tear into 'im myself."

"Hmph," she pouted.

"But," he cautiously ventured. "what are we going to do now? There's no denying that we needed their help."

"I don't care," Ashe frowned. "I don't give a damn how much we require troops. They can talk down to me all they want, but nothing is worth taking what he said about you and your people lying down. I will never allow _anyone_ to speak of you that way."

He blinked, genuinely taken aback by Ashe's vehemence on the matter.

"I suppose we'll just have to make do ourselves, like we always have," he chuckled.

"Yes," Ashe nodded stiffly. "We will."

Tryndamere grinned. He reached out across the gap between their mounts and grabbed her hand.

Startled, Ashe spluttered, "W-What are you doing?"

"Your palm," he answered. "It's injured, isn't it?"

Blushing at having been caught, Ashe gently dislodged his grip.

"It's nothing," she muttered. "It was worth breaking their stupid table."

"Regardless," Tryndamere sternly replied. "The moment we get back home, we're having a medic see to that. Can't go fighting a war with an infected stump of an arm, can we?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, _mother_," came her sarcastic drawl.

At that, Tryndamere broke out into outright, unhindered laughter.

"What is it now?" She asked, exasperated.

"Nothing, just…" he smiled. "It's like we've underwent some strange role reversal today. Don't you agree?"

"_I _just think you're rubbing off on me," Ashe scoffed. "Which isn't necessarily a good thing, mind you."

"Depends who's asking, 'f you ask me."

"Well, I didn't."

"Touchy."

Ashe winced.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I guess I'm still a little heated from what happened."

"Whoa," he vigorously waved his arm through the air, as if attempting to dispel the very _notion_ of what she said. "Don't apologize! Why're you apologizing for defending me? I think if anyone has the right to feel a little incensed, it's you."

"Actually," she raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't that be you?"

"Nah," he chuckled. "Why would I need to lose my temper when you're there to do it for me? Good deal scarier too, I'd say."

Ashe remained silent, seemingly pondering something at great length.

"Tryndamere," she finally offered. "You'd never abandon us, would you? Like the Demacians did."

He narrowed his eyes.

"Perish the thought," he growled. "No, seriously."

"Because…" she trailed off. "You're all we have. And we're all you have."

"Damn straight. Look into my eyes for a sec, would you?"

Confused, Ashe did so.

He fixed her with a searing, blistering gaze that spoke volumes.

"I. Will. _Never_. Leave you. Do you think even death itself can change that?"

Transfixed, staring into his torrent of flames, Ashe knew the ironclad truth.

"No," she smiled. "It can't."

Demacia could go and crumble for all she cared. All she ever needed was sitting on that horse next to her.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>

So I realize I might be just a little unfair in my portrayal of Demacia. The way I rationalize it is that Demacia as a whole, even though it has its problems, isn't prone to _that_ sort of behavior, and it's just that little rotten-to-the-core nameless diplomat (and perhaps those in the room with him) that Ashe and Tryndamere are unfortunate enough to have to deal with. You'll notice I refrained from using any big-name Demacia champions like Garen or Lux. I'm sure they're _just_ nice and wonderful, don't you worry. And in regards to this story, I think I _will_ decide to update it now and then when the whimsy strikes me. They're probably all going to be interconnected shorts that detail Ashe and Tryndamere's circumstances as rulers and as a couple. Who knows where it'll take me, who knows how often I'll update (but keep your fingers crossed, hm?), and who knows when I'll decide to end it. And _who knows_, I might even like to throw in an AU here or there to spice things up! In _fact_, that might even be coming up next. Here's hoping, hm?

I hope you enjoyed reading! Please, tell me your thoughts!


	3. Frostbite

**Author's Note:** This is inconceivable. An update in a matter of days?! Never before in the history of my laziness has this occurred! I must be more enamored with this couple than I first thought. Ha. Well, you guys aren't complaining, right? And to top it off, it's the AU I promised! Bon appetit, you rascals.

* * *

><p>"Uh, hello?"<p>

Sharp, blue eyes glanced briefly towards him, before dropping back down without so much as a word.

Tryndamere let himself in the office, observing how spartan the interior was. Eyes roved over the woman at the desk in front of him. The first thing he noticed was her hair; so blonde it appeared nearly silver in hue.

"Uh…hi," he tried again. "My name is Tryndamere King. Er, I'm your new Assistant Manager who transferred in from the eastern branch. I was told that I'd be sharing this office with you…?"

"Pleased."

She didn't so much as lift her head to acknowledge him, preoccupied as she was with scribbling furiously away at some document or other.

Left standing there awkwardly, Tryndamere nervously scratched the back of his neck.

Finally, she put down her pen and looked at him.

"Well? What are you waiting for, an invitation?" she asked coldly. "You start today, correct? There's an empty desk over there, or can't you see for yourself?"

She gestured distinctly towards the vacant working space to his immediate right.

"You can drop your things there. Get started with looking over these proposals."

She walked over and dumped an intimidating stack of papers on the smooth wood of his new desk.

"Whoa, whoa," he frowned. "Don't I at least get an introduction? We'll be working together from now on, after all. You haven't even told me your name."

"Oh, _I'm_ sorry," sarcasm dripped off every syllable. "I had assumed you'd have basic reading capabilities."

She patronizingly pointed towards the plaque on her table. _Ashe Avarose, Mgr. _was spelled out in looped, golden script.

"Now, perhaps we can get to work? Or would you rather exchange pleasantries over a cup of tea?"

She briskly stepped back over to her desk and resumed her work.

"Geez," Tryndamere muttered as he sat down. "What died and crawled up _your_ ass?"

Ashe halted for a moment and levelled a frosty glare at him.

"Mr. King," her tone was slow and deliberate. "I deem it fair to warn you ahead of time. As your superior, I will tolerate no rubbish, no prattle, no miscreant behavior, no impropriety of any kind. You treat me with any modicum of disrespect, and you _will_ reap the appropriate consequences. I am not here to make friends. I am here to work, as are you. You would do well to remember that."

After that, she abruptly continued to pay him no heed, and once again the room was filled with naught but the insistent scratches of pen on paper.

Tryndamere, not sure how to respond, merely grunted and began unpacking his things.

Inwardly, he grimaced. His new boss was exactly the sort of person he did not know how to deal with. To say he immediately disliked her would be a bit of an understatement.

"So, 's kind of weird, isn't it?" he broke the stifling silence, hours later, when he simply could not handle it anymore. "That they'd put the Assistant Manager and Manager in the same office. It seems like an unusual way of doing things."

"It's supposedly to breed a more cohesive working environment, and strengthen bonds, improve productivity by way of close quarters, all that sort of nonsense and garble."

She had once again managed to reply without looking up. She didn't even attempt to feign interest in the conversation.

Frustrations mounting, Tryndamere spoke up against his better judgment.

"What's your problem, anyway? Are you always this nasty to everyone you meet, or am I a special case?"

This time it was he who carried the sarcastic drawl.

She froze in the middle of typing on her computer. Trembling, she turned to him.

Tryndamere was startled at the frigid bitterness in her gaze.

After a moment, she scoffed, swiveling back to her glowing screen.

"Just get those proposals in by the end of today," she hissed.

And Tryndamere, at once incensed and miffed and furious, only bit back a snarl due to the nagging, unwelcome voice tugging at the insides of his mind, telling him that amidst the merciless, swirling cold of her scrutiny, it struck him just how _lonely_ her eyes were.

* * *

><p>As the weeks dragged on, he found himself more and more at odds with his frosty coworker.<p>

"How are the reports coming along, Mr. King?"

"I'll have 'em for you by Friday."

She glared at him.

"I believe I said it was necessary to have them in by _tomorrow_."

"Yeah, well, that won't be happening."

"And _why_, may I ask," she seethed. "Are you so blatantly disregarding the deadlines I have set?"

He was only too happy to return her glare.

"Because, _chief_, the load you gave me is so stupidly large _three_ people couldn't have it ready for you by next _week_ if they hope to get any sleep."

She ground her teeth.

"My demands have been perfectly reasonable and within boundaries. Perhaps your failure to be punctual has less to do with me and more to do with the fact that you have the work ethic of a _child_."

He abruptly stood, nearly tipping his chair to its side, before making his way to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Out to clear my goddamned head. My migraine's always starts t' act up when I talk with you."

Downstairs, in the break room, Tryndamere poured himself a cup of water and sighed.

Lingering near the cooler, he spotted a few coworkers he recognized – barely – walking towards him. The workload he received from Ashe had left him little time for any extended interactions with anyone other than herself, he was annoyed to realize.

"Hi!" a female chirped. "You're the new guy, aren't you? We haven't really been seeing much of you, so I thought it was a good time to introduce ourselves! I'm Luxanna Crownguard. I work in Marketing with my brother here. Nice to meet you."

She held out her hand.

Shifting so that he could take it, Tryndamere remarked, "Same here. It's good to see not everyone in this company's all about the doom and gloom."

"Ah, that's right!" the man next to her – her brother, apparently – exclaimed. "You're sharing an office with Ashe, aren't you?"

"Unfortunately," Tryndamere grunted.

"My name is Garen."

He held out a hand as well, which Tryndamere shook.

"Around here," Garen continued. "We call her the Ice Queen. When she's not listening, anyway."

"Tell me about it," Tryndamere muttered. "What's her deal, anyway?"

"We don't know," Luxanna shook her head. "She's always so aloof that it's impossible for anyone to approach her. Well, except for Trundle, anyway."

Tryndamere raised an eyebrow.

"'Trundle'?"

"Oh, Trevor Daly. We call him that because he lumbers around like a rock. Seriously, he can't go between cubicles without knocking like five staplers over. He's this sleazy guy from IT who always hits on Ashe relentlessly and can't take a hint, even though she's turned him down probably a bajillion times already. A real _troll_, that one."

Luxanna scrunched up her nose, as if some unpleasant aroma had sifted up between them.

"Anyway," she waved her hand airily. "As far as we can tell, she has no real friends to speak of, and anyone who tries is scared off before they can get anywhere. So yeah, you really do have it cut out for you, working under her."

"Tch," he downed his water in one uncomfortable gulp. "As if I don't already know."

He crumpled the paper cup and carelessly bounced it against the rim of the receptacle near him.

"Well, I'd better head back. She's probably already reduced to conniptions, and if I don't get t' work on those reports ASAP she'll no doubt castrate me."

He waved his farewell to his new acquaintances and trudged back up to the third floor.

The sound of a familiar voice filtered through his office door as he approached it.

"For the last time, Mr. Daly," it snapped. "Unhand me before I call security."

"Oh, you're so adorable when you play hard to get," her assailant crooned. "C'mon, Ashe. One date. I promise you won't regret it."

Tryndamere swung open the door and strode purposefully into the room, noting its unusual state of disarray.

The oily admirer had Ashe backed against the wall adjacent to Tryndamere's desk. Her expression was one of utmost revulsion.

"What the-"

"Trust me, Trevor," Tryndamere idly remarked. "You're wasting your time and barking up the wrong tree. Or, should I say, chipping away at the wrong block of ice."

"Back off, shithead," he snarled. "This ain't got anything to do with you."

"Well, we'll have t' agree to disagree. One thing's clear, though: she isn't interested. Let her go."

"Or what, pretty boy?" Trevor sneered. "You gonna make me?"

He faltered, however, at being fixed with a glare so ruthless, it was as if he was being set ablaze.

"I'm not going to ask you again."

Ferocity carved itself into every minute crevice of Tryndamere's countenance, so distinct they appeared sculpted by a chisel.

Trevor gritted his teeth, but reluctantly released Ashe.

"Whatever. Fuck this."

True to his moniker, Trevor shouldered past Tryndamere and trundled moodily out of the office.

"Figures," Tryndamere muttered. "Good riddance. You okay?"

To his surprise, however, Ashe slapped away his proffered hand and frowned.

"I'm fine. You didn't have to do that."

She marched back to her desk, sparing him not a glimpse.

"_You're welcome_," Tryndamere growled. "Yeah, pay no heed to the guy who just saved your prissy ass from a would-be molester."

He spat angrily into his trash bin.

Ashe finally looked towards him, disgust apparent on her visage.

"What were you expecting, confetti? You think you're so high and mighty. Get over yourself."

"I wasn't _expecting_ anything. But at the very least, a 'thank you' would've been nice!"

She slammed her hands down on the table.

"I didn't _need_ your help. I'm not some damsel in distress you need to rescue so as to stroke your already inflated ego. You're no better than Mr. Daly."

Pushed past the brink of his rage, Tryndamere pummeled the wall beside him with such force that it splintered the dried paint.

"Yeah?" his quiet tone belied the extent of his anger. "My bad. I probably _should_ have left you alone. God knows a tumble under the sheets oughta loosen you up. Maybe then you'll finally stop being such an uptight _bitch_."

Her eyes widened.

Every last dreg of Tryndamere's ire dissipated as he realized his own words.

Appalled, he quickly snapped his head towards her.

"H-Hang on," he pleaded. "That's not what I-"

"You are," she exhaled, causing dread to bubble and churn in his abdomen. To him, it sounded like the final icy nail in his coffin. "lazy, self-centered, uncouth, boorish, and puerile beyond all comparison. Never have I worked with a man so distinctly vulgar, and frankly, _barbaric,_ as you."

She pointed to the door.

"Get out. Get out of my sight."

He glanced disbelieving towards her.

"Are you…firing me?"

She maintained her glare.

"One thing you are not," her eyes darted briefly to the reports lingering on his desk. "Is incompetent. I am not so haughty as to avoid acknowledging your talent. And so I cannot, in good conscience, fire you. But that doesn't mean I have to continue to tolerate your presence. First thing tomorrow, I'm petitioning the higher-ups for a reorganization of staff. You aren't going to be _my_ problem anymore."

She dropped her arm and resumed writing.

"Now leave. I never want to see your face again."

Too numb to deliver a retort, Tryndamere merely did as he was bid, leaving his possessions behind.

So surreal was his state of mind, he couldn't even bring himself to recall that this was what he wanted all along; nor fathom that, therefore, there was no reason for him to have been so affected in the first place.

* * *

><p>"Damn it all to hell," he grumbled, trudging his way back up the familiar stairs.<p>

In retrospect, leaving his things at his former workplace yesterday was not the most conducive of actions to take. He merely hoped he wouldn't happen upon a certain someone while retrieving them.

He sighed as he heard her muffled voice through the door. Just his luck.

"Oi," he murmured. It was too early in the morning for this, damn it. "I'm here to-"

"Sir, _please_!"

Of all the things he expected to be greeted with when he creaked the door open, Ashe's desperate plea was not one of them.

"I'm sorry, Ashe, but this puts me in a very difficult situation."

"Mr. Keeper, you _know_ I would never do such a thing!"

An elderly man stood across from Ashe, with both hair and beard equal parts ridiculous and voluminous. Tryndamere recognized him as their Head Administrator.

"The fact is that several crucial documents went missing under your watch. I'm afraid my hands are tied on the matter. You can't be arrested since there's no definitive evidence, but it does not shed an appropriate light on the company if we were to let this go."

"Please," she implored, nearly hysterical. "I've worked so hard to get to where I am, I've put in so much – _please_, Mr. Keeper! This job is everything to me."

Unshed tears glistened in the corner of her eyes.

"I truly wish there was another way, dear girl, but…" Keeper fidgeted as Ashe choked back a sob.

Tryndamere tried averting his gaze from Ashe's trembling figure. Never had he seen her so emotionally unhinged.

_Leave it alone, it's none of my concern, leave it alone…_

He attempted telling himself that she deserved it, that she had it coming, but immediately grimaced upon even letting that thought flit across his mind.

He sighed, already resigned to what he had in store for himself.

_Ugh. I really hate myself sometimes._

"Wait."

Keeper turned, startled at the unannounced presence.

"Why, Tryndamere! Terribly sorry for the commotion. I'll just be a few more minutes and you can get back to your desk."

"Actually, sir, about Ashe…"

Keeper blinked, taken aback.

"Yes?"

"I'd just like to say that, though her personality could _really_ use some adjusting-"

Even through her tears, Ashe managed a glare in his direction.

"…she's the last person who would stoop to something like theft. Trust me, she's a veritable girl scout."

"Be that as it may, Tryndamere, I can't be inclined to show her leniency. We can't have potential buyers see Valoran Corp as a business that cannot assure even its own security. We must cut our losses somewhere, and unfortunately, it will be at Ashe's expense."

"It sounds awfully like you've rushed this. Have you even investigated this further before placing the blame on her?"

"The decision has already been made. As I said, it is out my hands."

For a few moments, there was nothing but the sounds of Ashe's quiet whimpers, nearly inscrutable against the deafening silence surrounding them.

"A week," Tryndamere persisted. "Give us a week to look into it ourselves. I swear, we'll be able to clear her name."

Keeper examined him carefully, caressing his thicket of facial hair as he did so.

"You say you can vouch for her. Are you prepared to stake your job on that faith?"

Tryndamere hesitated.

"What do you mean by that, sir?"

"I mean that I'll only allow this if you are prepared put yourself on the line with your findings. If a week passes and you haven't gathered the sufficient proof, then your job is also forfeit. This is a heavy matter, Tryndamere, and if you've no conviction on the matter, then it is pointless to discuss this further."

Tryndamere clenched his teeth, letting the burdensome stillness wash over him.

He couldn't wager with his own career. It was inconceivable.

He reasoned with himself: he had done everything he could, and of course he can't be expected to place himself in the proverbial line of fire. It wasn't even his _place_ to do so.

But then he met with Ashe's forlorn gaze, her slumped shoulders, the half-lidded eyes that all but conveyed that she had resigned herself to her fate, that it was a given she was inevitably alone in her venture.

And perhaps he would never forgive himself for abandoning her, perhaps he wanted to redeem himself in _some_ way in her eyes, perhaps he just wanted to spite her preconceptions of him.

Whatever and regardless of the reason, he steeled himself and stared resolutely back at his superior.

"Fine. I'll do it."

Ashe shot upright, flabbergasted. Her expression was almost comical.

"You…what?" Keeper inquired, nearly as bewildered as she appeared to be.

"Your ears not what they used to be, old man? I said I'll do it. Give us one week before you fire her."

Still stroking his beard, Keeper sighed once more.

"Well, the onus is on you then, Tryndamere. For what it's worth, I wish you the best of luck."

"Thanks, Zil," Tryndamere called to his retreating back as the older man glided over the threshold. "You're a real life-saver. Sorry I'm being so fickle with my position already."

As Keeper waved away his concerns and disappeared around the corner, Tryndamere felt a small tug at the hem of his shirt.

He swiveled and came nose to head with a suddenly very demure Ashe. He hadn't noticed before now just how short she was.

"U-Um," she stuttered. "You…know Mr. Keeper?"

He almost wanted to laugh at how reserved she was in his presence.

"Yeah, we go back a ways. He's the one who got me this transfer from the other branch. Wouldn't have made Assistant Manager without him."

An awkward pause reigned.

"Why," Ashe mustered. "Why did you do that?"

He propped himself up onto a vacant corner of his desk as he mulled her question over.

"Do I need a reason?" he sighed. "It's not like there's an ulterior motive behind everything I do."

She must have detected the inherent hurt lingering behind his gruff façade, because for once, she furiously shook her head in apology.

"N-No! That's not what I meant! I only…It's only…I don't understand how you can even stand to look at me, much less…"

She trailed off, gazing at him meekly.

"Much less decide to risk so much just to help me, after all the horrible things I've said to you," she whispered.

"I mean," he smiled weakly. "I figure I've got a lot more to answer for on _that_ regard. I still haven't apologized, by the way. For what I said yesterday. I – I was angry, and I wasn't thinking straight, but that didn't give me any right to say what I did. I'm sorry, Ashe."

Tears had settled placidly on her cheeks, almost as though they were frozen to her skin, as Ashe looked up towards him with something akin to wonder. It was as if she was seeing him properly for the very first time.

Chewing on her lip, she seemed to struggle with herself before deciding to respond.

"It's not like I made it easy for you. I insult you, I constantly put you down, treat you like dirt, and…and always demand so much of you, it's no wonder you were pushed over the brink."

She averted her gaze.

"Truth be told," she gave a dry, humorless chuckle. "It's isn't as if you weren't just being honest."

But Tryndamere took ahold of her shoulders and forced her to look at him.

"Don't say that about yourself. Look, I admit, you can be _grating_ at times, but I was out of line, okay? I didn't mean it. Can't you just accept my damn apology already?" he grinned.

Ashe's slender arms draped themselves over her own chest, making her seem even smaller than she already was.

"I…I'm always like this, you know. I'm so quick to keep everyone I know at arms' length, and I never know how to…to _talk_ to people. It's just been me soaked in my solitude my entire life, so I always come off as such a shrew. I…I'm _sick_ of it. I'm sick of myself."

"What," Tryndamere scoffed. "'S this supposed to dissuade me or something? Fat chance."

Ashe continued to bite her lip, her eyes brimming with gratitude, gleaming with fresh tears that threatened to escape their confines.

"If you can find it in your heart to forgive me," she uttered. "Might we start over?"

She took a deep breath.

"Can you help me, Mr. King?"

He pretended to painstakingly consider her fervent plea, going so far as to stroke his chin.

"Two stipulations," he held up two fingers. "One, stop it with that 'Mr. King' bullcrap. Seriously, it's getting on my nerves. Just call me Tryndamere, alright?"

As she nodded, he let out a hearty guffaw at how earnestly she mused over his offer.

"And two," he grinned. "If you really want me to help you, then be my friend."

For what seemed like the umpteenth time this morning, Ashe felt her eyes inexplicably widen.

She smiled. Tryndamere stumbled, transfixed, as it was easily the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"It's a deal."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>

So yeah, this is actually just Part One. It was SUPPOSED to be all packed in to one installment, and we'd resume with our lovely king and queen in the next chapter, but what can I say? It quickly spiraled out of my control and got way out of hand. I'm pretty sure what I've already got written here is barely the half of it. To be honest, I really don't feel as if I did a very good job. This chapter feels a bit rushed and disjointed. I think it's due to me being so used to snippets and stand-alone moments in time, that I can't even bring myself to adequately write a cohesive story anymore.

Anyway, yes, Zilean is their head administrator. As for his last name, well...Zilean the ChronoKEEPER? HAHAI'MSOFUNNYPLSDON'TKILLME.

So, is everyone liking the AU? Or do people just hate it and are ready to start ripping bones from my body for even daring to divert from the main setting? I was thinking, after Part Two is posted (I say that as if I'm not the LAZIEST person in existence), I'd consider dipping back into this universe on occasion with future chapters, if inspiration doesn't decide to abandon me altogether. Of course, you have no need for worry, I won't be neglecting our favorite Freljordian dynamic duo!

Stay tuned!


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